


Prey

by Morgan_Diablood



Series: Tale of a Phoenix [1]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Diablood/pseuds/Morgan_Diablood
Summary: A young vampire is in the middle of a kill when he finds himself cornered with two terrifying predators closing in.
Relationships: Alucard & Alexander Anderson
Series: Tale of a Phoenix [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779193
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Prey

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a new ending now, for anyone rereading.

_“Dispatch, all units are on site, and we’ve just sent some officers in to investigate. There’s no sign of a perp or any victims from the outside.”_

_“10-4.”_

Red and blue lights pulsed in the cold night air shrouded in darkness and tension, filled only with the nervous chatter of police officers and the faint crackling of their radios. Police cars formed a semicircle on a lonely dirt road outside an abandoned paper mill at the edge of a sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere that was so remote, it probably wasn’t even known by surrounding areas. Covered with graffiti of varying levels of skill and complexity, the mill had been long since abandoned to fall to rot and ruin, forgotten by time as it sat eerily still amongst the surrounding trees with no one to care for it. Due to the paper mill’s isolated location, it had become a popular hangout for teenagers, junkies, and squatters in recent years.

In the past month however, it had also become the site of a series of disappearances that were seemingly without any pattern or reason excepting one common denominator: anyone who set foot inside that place never stepped back out, including the first few officers who had initially been sent to investigate. The hushed whispers among townsfolk speculated many possible causes, including a wild animal or a criminal, perhaps a crazed serial killer ripped straight out the frames of a horror movie. There were even rumors of monsters floating around as time passed and the disappearances continued to grow in numbers with no sign of stopping, causing fear to further mount.

The few officers left outside continued to watch through dark windows for any signs of movement from within. There was nothing though, only inky stillness. Some, upon hearing the unmistakable sound of gunshots, went in to help. They never came out either, and the dwindling number of those left continued to wait anxiously for the return of their partners.

_Run._

The second floor. A man known as Sawicki by his coworkers at the police station ran through dingy, crumbling halls, eyes frantically darting around for any sign of movement in the normally dead building. His handgun was still clutched in his quivering hand, a flashlight with dying batteries in the other. The wind blowing through broken windows and cracks in the walls made it sound like someone was lowly moaning in the distance, a noise that made Sawicki’s heart jump every time he heard it.

_Keep running. Don’t stop. They’ll catch you. They’ll change you. Just keep running. Don’t stop. Don’t look back._

He turned a corner, sweat collecting near his brows as he tried desperately to find the stairs. Sawicki was the only one left alive in this place, as far as he knew. He was the only one who was able to escape the monsters, the only word he could think to call them, that had hunted himself and his partners. Just him and the men he knew were still waiting for them outside. Sawicki had to get to them, had to get back to the station. He wasn’t sure who else they could send to stop those things though; nothing seemed to kill them, and they had _tried._ He remembered the desperate cracks of gunshots that had echoed and rang in his ears as terrified men in uniform tried to fight off the gaggle of shambling ghouls. The beasts however remained unfazed by the molten lead that was being embedded in their rotting carcasses, responding only with quiet, breathy moans. The monsters hadn’t been strangers though, that was even worse. Sawicki remembered the looks of horror on his partners’ faces and likely his own when they had realized that they could recognize former friends, neighbors, and coworkers. They were faces that had been staring back at them from the pages of missing posters, pinned to the walls of supermarkets and post offices, flapping noisily against lampposts as the wind teased and played with them. Faces that had once been bright and full of life, now devoid, soulless husks, emptied of the things that had once made them human. It was like looking at the gutted carcass of a deer.

As the mindless, moaning onslaught continued to reach for them with rotting arms outstretched, indifferent to the terror inspired by those horrific noises, their eyes glowed a dreadful shade of violet. Violet that cut through the surrounding darkness, trained on their prey like undead missiles. One of the men stepped toward the mob, hand extending as if to try and touch one of the beasts. Perhaps he was hoping on some level that he may be able to bring them back from whatever terrifying transformation had befallen them.

The poor fool.

“Michalski…” he began, taking another step forward.

“Kuba, don’t—!”

The panicked warning was cut short as the ghoul closest to Kuba seized his outstretched arm like a vice, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Kuba let out a short scream as he was violently dragged into the ranks of the mob and out of sight, though the unmistakable noise of flesh being ripped and his continued screams painted a grisly picture. The remaining men began to run away again, boots thudding loudly against gritty concrete, though they no longer bothered with the notion of fighting back. Their only focus was to escape, forced to drown out the screams of their partner as he was devoured by the ravenous undead.

_This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening…_

Sawicki suddenly stopped in his tracks, recoiling in horror when he ran face first into a cobweb that hung from the ceiling, his face colliding with the thick, scratchy mass in a small explosion of dust and dead flies. Stumbling back, he almost retched as he raised his arms to wipe at his face, feeling desperately for any spiders. As Sawicki struggled to compose himself, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, snapping his head to face it, seeing a shadow moving further away and out of sight through a large hole that had once been part of a wall, now reduced to a pile of dusty debris on the floor. Sawicki stood in place, swallowing thickly as he listened for the sounding of any moaning. There was only silence though, but this didn’t comfort him at all. He was left to wonder if the shape was another monster or if he had perhaps found a survivor, one of the missing people who hadn’t been turned. Sawicki wanted to keep running, but he didn’t know where he would go. He still wasn’t sure where the stairs that would bring him downstairs to the exit were; every corridor looked the same and he hadn’t set foot in this place since a drug bust over three years ago.

For all he knew, the stairs could be just past the mystery figure in the next room.

Clambering carefully as possible over the pile of crumbled chunks of plaster and bricks that crunched and shifted under his weight, Sawicki came out in a wide open space illuminated only by trickles of silver moonlight that managed to break in through grubby, cracked windows and holes in the ceiling, his pistol and flickering flashlight leading the way. A cold breeze blew past as he crept forward, making him shiver slightly as his boot bumped a spilled bottle of liquor on the floor, rubber sole briefly sticking to the mess. His footsteps, light as they were, sounded like gunshots; even the quietest of noises seemed almost deafening in the otherwise silent area. There was a shuffle off to the side and Sawicki turned to face its source, his flashlight feebly lighting up the face of a young man just a few yards away from him. From what he could see as the face flashed in and out of his view, the boy looked to be barely in his twenties. His first instinct after the night’s events was scream and run, but Sawicki forced his legs to stay firmly rooted in spot as he realized that the face, while pale and seemingly dirtied by something he couldn’t entirely make out yet, it was not rotted nor did his eyes possess that hideous glow; they were instead a pale shade of jade. The boy not only looked alive, but he looked human, and examining his face, it didn’t take long for Sawicki to recognize him as one of the faces on the missing posters, one of the first to disappear in fact. The boy had recently graduated high school, having been preparing for college when he had gone missing. Given the circumstances, it was strange that the boy had somehow managed to last this long without being killed or turned.

Lowering his gun, Sawicki immediately rushed for him, thanking God that he hadn’t run the other way after all and that he had actually managed to find a survivor, that at least one family would be able to have their happy ending. As he got closer, Sawicki saw that it was blood that covered the boy’s face along with his hands, crusting his dark brown hair and staining his cheap-looking puffy blue parka. He almost stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening in concern and shock at the sight of so much blood.

“Hello?” he called to him as he approached, slower as he looked for any wounds. “Are you—?”

The boy suddenly sprang forward, jumping at Sawicki as his eyes shifted from green to bright red. His movements were too quick for the terrified man to react, and in his last moments, Sawicki recoiled back slightly, hands tensed, ready to raise the gun and pull the trigger. In his last moments, one final cry escaped his throat.

“Don’t—!”

-.-.-

Wind hissed gently through the room, chilling the air and rustling leaves in through a large, perfectly rectangular gap in the wall where a door may have once been. Vegetation along with the cold wind crept in through the empty space, which allowed a view of the deteriorated exterior. Dried and curled leaves skittered past the form of what had once been a girl with ragged blonde hair, which was missing several chunks. The girl looked like she had been stabbed several times in the gut, gaping wounds the source of the blood that covered her lower body, and her arms were covered with defensive slashes that tore the fabric of the tattered cream sweater she wore. The sweater, now nearly black with filth, was the only piece of clothing left that she was still wearing, though it was large enough on her body that it covered up her buttocks and pudendum. With no more prey in sight for her to chase, the young ghoul stood still over the body of one of the slain brothers in blue that lay at her bare feet. Swaying slightly with the occasional sighing groan, her dead, glowing eyes stared at nothing.

_Shuffle._

A pair of footsteps began to approach, almost completely silent as a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere through the gap in the wall. He was tall and thin, appearing almost tree-like as he stepped in. He held a large pistol in his hand as he took a quick look around before his eyes landed on the ghoul, who let out a loud, angry-sounding snarl that alerted other nearby monsters of the intrusion. She began to shamble hurriedly toward him, hands reaching out, eager to grab her first pound of flesh. The man didn’t appear alarmed, barely even reacting in fact, as if it was a sight that he had become well-acquainted with. His only reaction was to simply glance over his shoulder, and from the darkness behind him came a shining silver blade flying through the air, swift and silent. The bayonet pierced through the girl’s neck, nearly decapitating her as blood was sprayed across the floor like water from a cut hose, a few bright scarlet droplets spattering onto the wall far behind her. Another blade was just as quickly buried into her chest, piercing her heart and her body crumbled into itself, collapsing into a pile of dust and hollow clothing on the floor.

There was a brief lull as a shadow fell across the room, a figure just as tall and imposing as the other stepping into the room to stand with him as the first turned to face him. “Nice shot…” he praised when another ghoul entered, its rasping growl announcing its presence.

Without skipping a beat, the man took aim behind him, not even bothering to turn around as he pulled the trigger of his handgun, firing the weapon and sending a silver bullet into the creature’s heart, its body dissolving into a cloud of ash before it could even hit the ground. A spent casing clattered onto the cement, trembling and rolling across the floor as the two men started toward the hall and a set of rusting metal stairs.

-.-.-

A deep, hungry inhale as the monster behind the carnage once again sank his fangs into the corpse to continue feeding. His teeth biting into flesh sounded almost like he was biting into a ripe apple. The officer’s blood was delicious; clear from the taint of booze or various narcotics, slightly fatty, yet also a bit sweet. Hopefully, his partners would taste just as good, who he would have to look for in the vast halls of the mill so that he could drink from them as well. He only needed to eat a few more, then he would finally be strong enough to leave the dying little town that he had grown up in, which was almost as forgotten as the paper mill that was once its livelihood. Now, it served only as a bitter reminder of the town’s own inevitable fate. He would be able to write his own ticket from then on. He was an immortal now, after all; why live his unlife in destitute buildings eating the homeless and drunks when he could be so much more?

As he pulled away from the newly dried corpse, his attention was drawn to Sawicki’s sidearm that had been dropped on the grimy floor, and he picked it up. The weapon was a little heavier than he had expected, small and bulky looking with a short, stumpy barrel. Running his thumb over the metal, his eyes traced blocky white letters pressed along the bottom of the barrel, spelling out the word **policja** in tiny text. Checking the magazine, he realized with a thread of disappointment that it was completely empty. He’d have to check the man’s partners when he found them; perhaps they would have more ammunition on them. The gun would certainly be a step up from what he currently had.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a clang echoing in the distant reaches of the building. It sounded like something falling, hitting a few objects before it struck the ground. He was still for a moment, senses on alert as he listened for any other noises. Whatever it was that fell, it sounded heavy. Who knocked it over, he wondered. Was it rats, a bird? Had it been knocked over at all, or was it just another mark of the place falling apart?

“Disgusting.”

Bolting to his feet, his movements were quick and jerky as he looked around himself for the source of the mysterious voice, which had sounded close enough for him to touch.

“What the fuck?” he muttered out loud when he was unable to find anyone, warm air pouring from his lips to cloud in front of him, a touch of paranoia to go along with his agitation.

Passing through the hole in the wall, his eyes scanned over the hall, long with an opening on either end. He reached a bloodstained hand into his pocket, producing a switchblade he had received as a birthday gift the year before, the instrument of his prey’s demise. He now clutched the knife in a death grip as if it was his sole life preserver in the middle of an ocean. The blade, slicked with crimson, made a sharp _snap_ as it sprang from the handle, metal shining faintly in the darkness.

There was a chuckle, amused sounding and full of scorn. “Just when I was thinking that the vampires couldn’t get more pathetic.” the voice continued, sounding almost disappointed, and he realized with a deep, churning pit of dread in his gut that the voice was coming from everywhere. It resonated from the shadows around him, which suddenly seemed deeper and darker than ever.

“Wh…” his voice trailed off before it could even begin, hitting a mental roadblock as he briefly spun in place, trying to spot the person the voice had to be coming from. Something in the back of his mind however told him that whoever or whatever it was, it couldn’t be from a human.

“Looks like it’s just the three of us now.” the voice was directly behind him now, joined by a new voice.

“Aye.”

That terrifying chuckle again, so close as it echoed around him, reverberating off the walls of the room. Slowly, fearfully, he turned, and saw them. There were two of them, both men, and they were tall, towering high above him, which only added to the already tremendous aura of dread they produced, and they wore huge, matching grins that emanated nothing short of utter malice. One was tanned with teeth that were flat, human, and his glasses shone white in the moonlight that trickled into the room, face framed by a crop of short, sandy blonde hair. His partner’s teeth were pointed, looking sharp as knives, and the perfectly circular sunglasses he too wore glowed a bright shade of reddish orange, long hair trailing behind him in a raven whip, a stark contrast to his alabaster skin. The pair, standing side by side, were the very definition of yin and yang, but they had one thing in common, something he could see plain as day.

They were both monsters.

The terrifying duo began to slowly approach, footsteps slow, deliberate, predatory, and he began to back away. His knife shook in his hand as his eyes shifted about, desperate to find a way out.

“Let burning coals fall upon them…” the blonde said in a thick Scottish accent.

“Let them be cast into the fire…” the raven chimed in with a deep voice smooth as butter.

“Into deep pits…”

“That they rise not up again.”

“Amen.” the blonde finished sagely.

The pause that followed was long and filled with tension. Neither party took their eyes off the other, locked in a deadly standoff, armed with their weapons and the knowledge that only one party would leave alive. The young vampire was the first to move, taking off running in the opposite direction, sneakers thudding heavily on cracked cement that looked ready to collapse at any moment as he ran out the other end of the hall. Unlike Sawicki, he knew the layout of the paper mill perfectly, and knew where exactly the stairs were. Making a sharp turn when presented with a T-shaped intersection, he almost tripped over a small pile of dust, stumbling for a panicked moment as he regained his balance, arms briefly flailing. The men were currently between himself and the stairs, he thought to himself as he passed a row of windows and even more piles of dust. From the corner of his eye, he could see the police cars still stationed outside, now just as deserted as the rest of the area. There weren’t many officers left, as most of them had gone inside the building after hearing the gunshots. He was sure that if he could make a circle around the building and the men chasing him stayed behind him the entire time, he could reach the stairs, then make it downstairs and out the door without having to face his pursuers. Then again, if he could regroup his ghouls, he wouldn’t have to worry about them at all. That sounded like a much better idea, now that he thought about it; he would use his ghouls as bait to slow the men and escape the mill while they were distracted. It wasn’t like they were alive to begin with.

Ducking through another doorway, he reached out with his senses, calling out across the mental ether for his undead servants. His call however went unanswered. Glancing back over his shoulder, he called out again, a lump rising in his throat to choke him when he only received the same result. He usually felt a tingle of acknowledgement when he commanded the ghouls, and although the undead beasts didn’t do much in terms of interacting with him or really anything besides moaning and eating anything that moved, they never failed to follow his orders or calls to come to him. This was different though. It wasn’t even that they were ignoring him, it was as if there wasn’t anything there to hear him at all.

**No one there.**

Dust.

The realization came to him as he entered the next room. Small piles of dust were scattered across the ground, gusts of wind that smelled of dew picking up strands of ash to curl through the air. Taking a slow, hesitant step backwards out of the room, he leaned back to stare in horror at the dust piles he had passed before. Once so insignificant as to not even be noticeable to him, they now delivered to him a grave message.

_You’re on your own._

The hunter had become the hunted, a wolf into a lamb.

Predator to prey.

As if on cue, darkness pooled on the wall nearest to him and the black-haired man stepped out in front of him through the wall, sunglasses gleaming as he gave him an ear-to-ear to grin, and the younger vampire stumbled back with a short, startled cry. Glancing around at the piles of dust, then back at the grinning man, he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat.

“My… My ghouls…” was all he could say at first. Looking back, he saw the other man standing at the other end of the hall, broad shoulders blocking the most obvious escape route. The blonde grinned at him as well, a pair of strange-looking swords in his hands.

He was trapped.

“All gone.” Alucard replied. “And good riddance. Besides, I’m afraid you won’t be needing them anymore.”

Looking over Alucard’s shoulder, the vampire saw a window on the other side of the room filled with dust. Cracks webbed out over the glassy surface with a small, craggy hole already present. Seeing the fear and contemplation on his face, Alucard gave the vampire a dark chuckle. His brilliant red gaze stared back at him, bright and eerie as they peered out from behind tinted lenses. “What’s your name, boy?”

Looking back at Alucard, the younger vampire gulped. “Ah… A-Adrian…” as he spoke, Adrian’s eyes were drawn to Alucard’s left ear for a brief moment, which was a bit smaller than its pair and slightly deformed looking.

“Adrian…” Alucard repeated. He rolled each syllable over his tongue, as if to examine every aspect of the name he had been presented with, before spitting it back out at the boy, mocking. “We had the chance to peruse your work on our way up, you know.” he said, the smirk not leaving his face, though something dark danced in Alucard’s eyes as he continued.

“We saw what you did to the women, _Adrian._ ”

Despite Alucard’s outward appearance of mirthful indifference, Adrian could sense a layer of rage boiling just beneath the surface, disgust and hatred deeper than anything the boy had felt directed toward him.

He would have to go past Alucard in order to get to the window. Running that way would mean certain death, but staying put would also mean death. The window itself looked like it would be easy to break, though Adrian didn’t want to have to stop for even the second it would take to smash it, knowing full well the red-eyed beast would be right behind him.

“Not to mention yer _sloppy._ ” Anderson spoke up from behind him, sounding just as repulsed and outraged as his partner. “Ye drew _way_ too much attention to yerself. Findin’ ye here was barely even a challenge.”

He could probably fling his entire body weight into the window and fall to the ground below. That way, Adrian wouldn’t have to stop moving until he was safe. He was still on the second story; he would almost certainly be injured by the fall, but he would survive. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be too hurt to get away.

Alucard and Anderson each took a menacing step forward, closing in on the vampire still cornered between them as he held out his switchblade, failing to hide the tremor that shook his hand.

“G-Get away from me!” Adrian shouted, his attempt at toughness as pathetic as his weapon of choice.

Alucard and Anderson glanced at each other, and they both released a shared burst of laughter.

“Boy, if you want to kill us, you’ll have to try better than this useless weapon.” Alucard said, and his gloved hand snapped right toward him, movements quick, like a pouncing snake. In a cool swat, he knocked the blade to the side and away. Adrian watched it fly off into the dark depths, helpless as one of his only means of defense skittered across the ground somewhere in the distance with a barely audible clatter.

“Now, don’t worry, we won’t do any damage to your heart,” Alucard started, unable to help the malefic grin that stretched across his face, and Adrian found himself staring down the long, reflective barrel of the biggest handgun he had ever seen. He could see the words **Hellsing** and **454 Casull** engraved along the polished surface of the side in large, loopy cursive lettering, and the gun had obviously been customized specifically for Alucard’s hand. “Not until both of us have had our fun, that is.”

His eyes snapped back to the window.

“Aye. It’s been ages since we’ve found a vampire, an’ ghouls jus’ aren't the same.”

_It’s now or never._

**_Run!_ **

With a sharp gasp of anticipation, Adrian bolted for the window, ducking past Alucard as the Vampire King lunged for him. Anderson was shouting at his partner to stop him, and the chaos was punctured by a gunshot.

Adrian didn’t even feel the pain at first. He felt the impact strike his back, pushing him forward, almost throwing him to the floor as he kept running. It was more like he had been hit by a baseball bat instead of a bullet, and at first, there wasn’t any pain. This didn’t last long at all however, and when the pain did set in, it _burned._ The bullet must have gone through one of his ribs, and it felt like a hot fire poker was being driven through him, accompanied by the sharp stench of scorching flesh.

Risking a glance over his shoulder, Adrian saw that both men were running after him. Alucard kept pace with ease, his hair blowing back behind him like a shadowy cape, and although Anderson found himself a little behind, he was quickly gaining. Both of them had their weapons raised.

Alucard’s gun was still smoking.

To keep running was absolute agony, but it was all Adrian could do. If he stopped, they would catch him. If he was caught, he was certain that he would die. Focused through the fear, Adrian kept going, barreling straight for the window, his only chance for escape, his only chance at survival, and he tried not to think about the pain as the silver in the bullet ate through his internal organs.

He’d die for good if he went on like this for much longer.

_Almost there—_

Alucard shot at him again, and for a second Adrian panicked, bracing himself for the impact of yet another bullet. Instead, the bullets cratered the already decaying floor around his feet. He was confused for a moment, left to wonder what he was doing, when the floor crumbled and fell out from beneath him, debris and large chunks of cement colliding to bust apart on the floor.

“NO!” Adrian let a cry from his mouth when he too fell, stomach clenching in terror as his hands shot out, one managing to catch the rim of the newly-formed hole. Sharp edges cut into the flesh of his palm, but his grip did not waver.

Alucard looked upon Adrian’s dangling frame with an expression akin to amusement, watching him hang like a piece of meat in the butcher shop. He once again took aim with his Casull, firing as the boy began to try and lift himself from the hole to make it back up to stable footing. The bullet hit its mark, piercing the back of his hand. Adrian cried out again as he fell, leaving behind a small crimson stain where he had been holding. Landing heavily on the floor below, Adrian rolled onto his stomach, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest as he tried to get up. Blood splashed from Adrian’s back onto the floor, and he coughed up the tang of copper to rest on the back of his throat.

A shadow fell across the area, and Adrian turned his head back to see Anderson descending upon him. The way his cassock fluttered about him, it made him look like a twisted angel of death. He had that insane grin on his face as he landed just a few feet away from him, and Adrian could almost feel the floor shake from the impact.

“Did ye really think it would be tha’ easy?”

Rolling onto his back, Adrian attempted to back away in a form not dissimilar to a crabwalk. “D-Don’t—”

Anderson swung one of his swords, easily cutting through Adrian’s clothing and slicing open his gut. The young vampire’s limbs quivered and gave out, sprawling out as he collapsed, laying in his own lifeblood. Still, he pushed himself back with his feet, trying to retreat from the maniacal Catholic.

“Did ye _really_ think we’d let ye escape?” Anderson asked as he continued to advance. He was sharpening his swords against each other as he went, metal blades glancing off one another to spark the air around them.

His hand flicked, and Anderson sent one of the bayonets streaking through the air to impale itself almost down to the hilt in Adrian’s chest. Adrian couldn’t even scream as he was thrown back onto the floor, he just choked as his mouth filled with blood that leaked out down his chin. He could see arcane symbols that glowed faintly on the weapon embedded in his body, holy silver searing flesh like a hot coal. The pair was keeping to their word though; his heart remained untouched.

Eyes green like sea foam glinted and Anderson raised the remaining bloodied blade, making what Adrian recognized as the sign of the Cross over his crumpled body as he muttered a prayer. He was advancing closer, knife raised. Soon, he would be dead, Adrian knew it as he felt another one of his organs dissolve.

 _I don’t want to die._ Adrian thought to himself, looking back down at the sword that stuck out from his chest. _Not here, not like this._

His hands reaching down to wrap around the protruding handle, Adrian felt the skin on his hands begin to burn the second he touched it, as if he was grabbing a hot pan straight off the stove. Even as his flesh began to peel away though, Adrian refused to let go.

He pulled.

There was resistance at first, the blessed blade clinging to the bone and soft innards it was lodged in, and Adrian clenched his teeth, trapping in a scream as the sword was pried loose. He tossed his head back and let out a ragged grunt, but that was the only noise he made when it jerked free from and slid out of his chest with a fleshy tear, leaving behind an open red slit rimmed with blackened, scorched flesh. With a desperate, shrill cry Adrian reared forward, stabbing Anderson in the gut with all his might.

The bayonet in Anderson’s hand fell to the floor with a loud clatter as he stumbled back a few steps, doubling over to clutch at the wound that gushed blood. As he fell down to rest on his knees, Anderson looked down at his own bayonet inside of him with a look of shock, and he moved to wrench it out. Ignoring the fire in his chest and the blood in his mouth, Adrian hobbled to his feet. His hands were a mess, blistered flesh melted together in little shiny clumps like running wax, sticking his fingers together. He almost burst into tears as he dove down and grabbed at the bayonet discarded on the floor, further searing flesh with a distinct sizzle, and the blade slipped in his hands for a moment, slicked by blood and burnt flesh. Seeing his movements, Anderson’s head snapped up to glare at him with eyes filled with hate, lips pulling back in a fierce snarl.

“ _Don’ ye fucken’ dare, ya—!_ ” Anderson thundered, voice shaking the walls around them as Adrian swung the blade over his shoulder. It was almost like he was a kid playing baseball with his friends again, ready to swing. If he put all his strength into it, one swing from this distance would hopefully be enough to cut Anderson’s head off.

Anderson’s shout and Adrian’s swing were both cut short when a hand, cold and dry as the dead, reached out from behind him and wrapped around the nape of the boy’s neck, squeezing tight and wrenching him away from Anderson. Adrian struggled in terror as he was lifted up off the floor, bayonet falling from his hands to land on the floor, useless to him now.

“Don’t you dare touch my priest, you goddamn freak.” the voice that hissed directly into his ear sent goosebumps prickling down the younger vampire’s arms.

Holding him at arm’s length, Alucard reached up with his other hand and in one quick, brutal thrust he drove it into Adrian’s back and through his chest until it came bursting out the other side, dyed a deep shade of red that dripped onto the floor in thick strands. _No…_ The boy hung like a limp sheet off Alucard’s arm that still perforated his chest, looking down at it in horror. _Oh no…_ The final remnants of life were fading from Adrian fast as he reached up with hands that shook wildly in place, managing to touch the hand almost disbelievingly _—no no no—_ before they dropped back to his sides, and, finally, the whelp stopped moving, for good.

Staring at the corpse with an impassive look on his face, Alucard let his arm drop down, angling it toward the ground to allow Adrian’s body to slide off and thud to the gritty cement, laying sprawled and twisted, resembling a dropped ragdoll. The blood on Alucard’s hand and splattered down his front meanwhile absorbed into him like water into a sponge, leaving him looking completely clean, spotless.

Getting down to feed, Alucard looked up with a grin at Anderson, who had pulled the bayonet from his stomach and was straightening up as the gash healed itself.

“He made the funniest face when I shot him.” Alucard remarked with an amused chuckle.

Anderson returned the chuckle as he met the vampire’s vermillion gaze. “Did ye see the blood when I sliced open his guts?”

The pair laughed with each other, sharing in the kill as Alucard once again bent down, putting his lips to the large hole in the other’s chest that continued to ooze to drink from it. Anderson grunted quietly to himself, looking away from Alucard as he began to devour the dead vampire’s flesh, nursing the wound in his stomach. Although the top layer of skin had closed and healed, with not even a scar left behind, he could feel the remaining internal damage that ached like a motherfucker. Anderson felt like an idiot for letting something like that happen. He had never had his own weapons turned against him, but looking back, he should have realized what the little devil was planning when he saw him pulling the bayonet out of his chest.

Looking up, Alucard swallowed a mouthful of meat and grinned at Anderson with blood-stained teeth. “You’re losing your touch, Judas Priest. If it wasn’t for me, that little punk could have actually screwed you over.” he said, as if having read his mind.

“I would have been fine.” Anderson snapped back, defensive as he glared at him.

Alucard stood, rising to his full, impressive height. “You would have been a fine corpse.” he retorted. “All these years, and you would have been slain by the likes of a _freak._ ”

“Shut yer mouth before I cut it off.”

A corner of Alucard’s mouth twitched upward. “I’d like to see you try.”

Anderson lunged at Alucard, new bayonets in his hands as he charged like an enraged bull. Alucard laughed out loud and outstretched his arms, eager to receive him and start the fight, his gun once again in hand.

-.-.-

Chief Borkowski paced along the road in front of his car, nervous as he twisted the dial of his walkie-talkie. He listened to the faint static at the other end of the speaker, hoping for any hint of a voice, not so blissfully unaware that he was the last one in his unit left alive.

The crunching of gravel under boots drew Borkowski’s attention, and bushy brown eyebrows furrowed when he saw an odd pair of men rounding a corner, disheveled from fighting. One of them, a tanned blonde wearing a cross, was fiddling with what looked like a handheld radio of some kind in his hand.

“ _Hey!_ ”

Borkowski’s strident voice boomed across the lot and he began to advance on the duo, a hand resting on his sidearm as he called out. “You two, stop right there!”

Both men paused and turned their heads to face him. They made no move to attack or even to run, simply watched the chief approach. They glanced at each other, and for a moment seemed to have a silent conversation, communicating only with their eyes before looking back.

Borkowski stopped a few feet away from the pair, and Alucard lowered his head to stare him right in the eyes. Reaching up, the vampire removed his sunglasses.

Borkowski’s voice was a little quieter when he next spoke, calm yet still authoritative. “I’m going to need both of you to—”

“Do it.” Anderson said, cutting him off mid-sentence, and Alucard chuckled from deep in his throat.

Borkowski’s face briefly contorted into one of horrified bewilderment when the air around Alucard started to twist and warp, crimson eyes blooming on his chest. For a moment, his mouth fell open, as if he was ready to scream. Luminous red eyes glowed brighter, and Alucard extended an arm, pointing a finger barely an inch away from the officer’s forehead. He froze in place; facial expression falling into a look of dazed passivity, his hand fell from his gun to hang limp at his side. A feeling of great calm washed over Borkowski, any sense of circumspection and trepidation fading into the back of his mind. His eyes shifted to a flat shade of red, and Alucard’s ivory smile widened at the sight.

“Quiet,” he ordered. “That’s enough.”

“Yes…” Borkowski agreed in compliant monotone.

“You never saw us.” Alucard continued. “Now, get back into your car and go.”

“I will. Have a good night, sirs.”

Turning his back, Borkowski shuffled away, making his way back to one of the squad cars at a slow pace. Both Alucard and Anderson watched him go, Alucard’s lips curled into a pleased-looking smirk, while Anderson looked for the most part relieved.

“Was tha’ the last one?”

Pulling his eyes away from the retreating tail lights, Alucard glanced over at his partner. “Yes, I believe that’s it.”

“Are ye sure he won’t remember us?”

He couldn’t help but snort at the question. It was as if the other forgot that he had been doing this for centuries. “Absolutely sure.”

Twirling his sunglasses between two fingers, Alucard surveyed the remaining police cars, sizing up each one for some sort of unseen weakness. They were all well-taken care of, and there wasn’t much to distinguish the silver and blue printed vehicles from their peers other than the numbers stamped on the sides. Most still had the keys in their ignition though, which would be good for them.

Settling on one of the cars, Alucard grinned. “I’m dri—”

Anderson’s head snapped around when he heard the other’s words. “ _No!_ ” he barked out, stuffing his radio back into the pocket of his cassock. 

**Author's Note:**

> You probably have a few questions. This story is part of a larger series, so don’t worry, there will be answers. ;)
> 
> Also, the word “policja” is not a typo. There’s a reason it’s spelled like that. I wonder if anyone can figure it out.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Reviews and feedback is always appreciated.


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